Gemotions

From his seat, David watched his breath fog in the crisp air of the converted barn. The rustic charm of the venue was lost on him. He felt the familiar constriction in his chest as he walked to the stage. His parents, seated in front, were staring expectantly, their faces filled with love.

He picked at the hem of his jacket. It was too tight, he thought. He felt pinned to the spot. The clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversation seemed to grow louder, amplifying every shaky breath he took. He'd rehearsed the speech a dozen times, but now the words had vanished, replaced by a suffocating silence.

He imagined turning and running, just disappearing out the back door, leaving the whole thing behind. But he couldn't.